II
Standing at the bedroom window, Darien watched the dawn slowly begin to overcome the darkness. He had never been an early riser before Bobbi's arrival. He had barely been a riser at all, in point of fact, counting sleep near the top of his list of favorite activities. Giving birth to a child had turned that list upside down and inside out, upending his priorities and radically shifting the axis around which his world turned, but he cherished the changes. Looking from his child to his sleeping partner, Darien laughed and shook his head slightly in disbelief that his focus had once been only himself, his only concern how events would impact his life.
As cold, gray light gradually transformed itself into the soft pinks and oranges of another spectacular California sunrise, Darien turned his head away in response to the murmurs and coos that meant Bobbi was waking up. Quickly, he tiptoed to the bassinet and lifted her out and up to his shoulder. To both his and Bobby's surprise and great relief, their daughter rarely cried, preferring to communicate her needs directly to her mother's mind. Crying was reserved for moments of intense fright or frustration and usually lasted only until one parent or the other (or Godparent if they happened to be nearby) took her in their arms for a cuddle and a gentle word of reassurance.
After a swift and efficient diaper change, something he'd become an expert at, Darien returned Bobbi to her bed. She would remain there happily for another hour or so, studying her surroundings and receiving answers to her occasional picture-questions, content to relax and entertain herself until both parents were up and around and willing to begin the day. Once her immediate requirements had been fulfilled, Darien crept off to the bathroom to satisfy a need of his own before slipping back into the bedroom.
For several minutes, he debated whether to resume watching the sun rise, but eventually decided to indulge himself in his new favorite pastime; watching Bobby sleep. Moving close to the bed, Darien crouched near his partner, smiling lightly, his gaze shifting from one aspect of the man to another. For the better part of half an hour, he watched Hobbes' chest rise and fall rhythmically and visually traced the shape and structure of his face, reveling in doing something Bobby would never have sat still for while awake. Darien had performed this private ritual many times since they had finally moved into their new apartment, but somehow, this particular morning was different, the sensations far more intense than they had ever been before and he tried to step away. He tried and failed.
Abruptly, Darien realized he was focused only on Bobby's slightly open mouth. In direct defiance of the warnings from his brain and the pit of his stomach, Darien found he could not tear his eyes away. The texture of the delicate skin, the variations of pinkness from one spot to the next, the warm breath pulsing from between Bobby's lips all held Darien in a virtual trance.
Utterly unaware of what he was doing until it was too late to retreat, Darien stretched out a hand and ghosted a finger along Bobby's top lip. In a second, his wrist had been seized in a firm grip and Bobby was gazing up at him, fully awake and clearly aware of what was happening. Humiliation and shame sweeping over Darien, he tried to tear away, to turn and run, but Hobbes wouldn't allow it and tightened his hold.
Anticipating rejection, or at the very least an earful of Bobby's usual stinging humor, Darien was stunned when Hobbes tugged the wrist he held close to his face and kissed the back of his partner's hand lingeringly, watching carefully for any sign of distress, ready with an immediate apology if it appeared the gesture was not acceptable. When Darien responded by relaxing, ceasing his attempts to escape, Bobby released his hand, breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief and locked his eyes onto his partner's, willing him to decide what the next move would be, or if there would even be one.
A tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that belied the mild confusion in his gaze, Darien brushed his fingers over Bobby's scalp, shoved his fear and dark expectations aside and leaned in to place a brief, there-and-gone peck on Bobby's lips, retreating almost before the contact had even been made. Hobbes, however, was not so willing to settle for Darien's idea of a first kiss. Lifting his upper body off the bed, supporting himself on his hands, Bobby pursued the face that was fast pulling away from his. Finally seeing that the other man was doing anything but rejecting him, Darien halted his withdrawal, his grin broadening marginally. When the other man leaned back in and initiated contact again, Bobby's eyelids slid down until they were almost closed and he threw himself wholeheartedly into the moment.
Their second attempt was not quite as tentative and lasted several seconds longer than the first. A single kiss became a series of fleeting kisses, lip brushing lip, exploring, wondering, testing the limits of courage and resolve until both ran out. When they separated at last, Bobby's familiar confident smile lit his features and quickly infected Darien, who smirked and stood slowly, stretching cramped muscles in his long legs.
"Helluva way to say good mornin', Fawkes."
Darien bent his head, finally severing the intense visual bond between them. Turning away, he headed for the kitchen to start breakfast, his typical goofy smile never wavering.
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Standing at the bedroom window, Darien watched the dawn slowly begin to overcome the darkness. He had never been an early riser before Bobbi's arrival. He had barely been a riser at all, in point of fact, counting sleep near the top of his list of favorite activities. Giving birth to a child had turned that list upside down and inside out, upending his priorities and radically shifting the axis around which his world turned, but he cherished the changes. Looking from his child to his sleeping partner, Darien laughed and shook his head slightly in disbelief that his focus had once been only himself, his only concern how events would impact his life.
As cold, gray light gradually transformed itself into the soft pinks and oranges of another spectacular California sunrise, Darien turned his head away in response to the murmurs and coos that meant Bobbi was waking up. Quickly, he tiptoed to the bassinet and lifted her out and up to his shoulder. To both his and Bobby's surprise and great relief, their daughter rarely cried, preferring to communicate her needs directly to her mother's mind. Crying was reserved for moments of intense fright or frustration and usually lasted only until one parent or the other (or Godparent if they happened to be nearby) took her in their arms for a cuddle and a gentle word of reassurance.
After a swift and efficient diaper change, something he'd become an expert at, Darien returned Bobbi to her bed. She would remain there happily for another hour or so, studying her surroundings and receiving answers to her occasional picture-questions, content to relax and entertain herself until both parents were up and around and willing to begin the day. Once her immediate requirements had been fulfilled, Darien crept off to the bathroom to satisfy a need of his own before slipping back into the bedroom.
For several minutes, he debated whether to resume watching the sun rise, but eventually decided to indulge himself in his new favorite pastime; watching Bobby sleep. Moving close to the bed, Darien crouched near his partner, smiling lightly, his gaze shifting from one aspect of the man to another. For the better part of half an hour, he watched Hobbes' chest rise and fall rhythmically and visually traced the shape and structure of his face, reveling in doing something Bobby would never have sat still for while awake. Darien had performed this private ritual many times since they had finally moved into their new apartment, but somehow, this particular morning was different, the sensations far more intense than they had ever been before and he tried to step away. He tried and failed.
Abruptly, Darien realized he was focused only on Bobby's slightly open mouth. In direct defiance of the warnings from his brain and the pit of his stomach, Darien found he could not tear his eyes away. The texture of the delicate skin, the variations of pinkness from one spot to the next, the warm breath pulsing from between Bobby's lips all held Darien in a virtual trance.
Utterly unaware of what he was doing until it was too late to retreat, Darien stretched out a hand and ghosted a finger along Bobby's top lip. In a second, his wrist had been seized in a firm grip and Bobby was gazing up at him, fully awake and clearly aware of what was happening. Humiliation and shame sweeping over Darien, he tried to tear away, to turn and run, but Hobbes wouldn't allow it and tightened his hold.
Anticipating rejection, or at the very least an earful of Bobby's usual stinging humor, Darien was stunned when Hobbes tugged the wrist he held close to his face and kissed the back of his partner's hand lingeringly, watching carefully for any sign of distress, ready with an immediate apology if it appeared the gesture was not acceptable. When Darien responded by relaxing, ceasing his attempts to escape, Bobby released his hand, breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief and locked his eyes onto his partner's, willing him to decide what the next move would be, or if there would even be one.
A tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that belied the mild confusion in his gaze, Darien brushed his fingers over Bobby's scalp, shoved his fear and dark expectations aside and leaned in to place a brief, there-and-gone peck on Bobby's lips, retreating almost before the contact had even been made. Hobbes, however, was not so willing to settle for Darien's idea of a first kiss. Lifting his upper body off the bed, supporting himself on his hands, Bobby pursued the face that was fast pulling away from his. Finally seeing that the other man was doing anything but rejecting him, Darien halted his withdrawal, his grin broadening marginally. When the other man leaned back in and initiated contact again, Bobby's eyelids slid down until they were almost closed and he threw himself wholeheartedly into the moment.
Their second attempt was not quite as tentative and lasted several seconds longer than the first. A single kiss became a series of fleeting kisses, lip brushing lip, exploring, wondering, testing the limits of courage and resolve until both ran out. When they separated at last, Bobby's familiar confident smile lit his features and quickly infected Darien, who smirked and stood slowly, stretching cramped muscles in his long legs.
"Helluva way to say good mornin', Fawkes."
Darien bent his head, finally severing the intense visual bond between them. Turning away, he headed for the kitchen to start breakfast, his typical goofy smile never wavering.
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